


Fantasy

by Miri1984



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Pining, crap a doodle do i am so weak for the angst, did i mention the angst, oh god so much angst, unrequited (at least he thinks so)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 04:47:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12381192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miri1984/pseuds/Miri1984
Summary: Set at the end of A Place for Everything. Everything Awful. Oh God Somebody Do Something.





	Fantasy

It’s a fantasy. He’s good with those. Does them a lot, because well. He can talk until his toes start to bleed (ha ha) but when it gets down to it his brain goes too fast to ever really forget where he is.

Even when his brain is in fucking wheel clamps.

He can see her. That’s what hurts. He’s not allowed to turn his head to look at her, that’s not protocol and he hasn’t been ordered to gaze at Minkowski like a lovestruck fool (he’s never done that when he was able to, why he misses it when he can’t is just another thing to add onto the things he wants to kill Cutter for) but he can see her. What _should_ be her. The body that she used to be in.

He has to believe it’s not empty, because he knows he isn’t. He can feel everything. See everything. He just can’t…

“Cutter needs you inside.”

In his head, as he does exactly what Cutter wants him to do, he constructs a little place where this isn’t happening. He’s good at that, too. Good at creating castles in the sky. If you just _take her_ they’ll realise you’re the better father. If you can just convince them that you love her more than she does. If you can just see her one more time, hold her in your arms, convince her that Daddy isn’t the monster Mom wants her to think…

 _No_.

No, that’s not the fantasy he wants right now. That fantasy leads to nothing but pain. Bright lights and child endangerment and the knowledge that he hurt her more than anyone else will ever…

_No._

He’s done beating himself up about that _(no he isn’t, he never will be)_ but right now things are bleak enough that he can push it to the side, he can look at Renee Minkowski and he can _dream._

They’re in the comms room because that’s the place she always yelled at him the most. She’s dressed in silk and heels and….

_No._

She’s in ship’s overalls because fucked if he knew what sort of dress she would wear if she’d even worn one in her life before now that didn’t have pockets stuffed full of weapons.

There.

She’s in crew overalls, but her hair is floating around her face and she’s…

_No._

No no no.

She... is just the way she always is.

“I’m sorry, Commander,” he says.

“You have nothing to be sorry fo…” _NO._

She cocks an eyebrow. “As you _should_ be, Eiffel.”

“Hahah, well yeah then. Sorry I didn’t… do better.”

She smiles. “You did you, Doug,” she said. “I’m never going to ask more of you than that.”

She really never, ever has.

He swallows. “Doesn’t mean I can’t wish I could do more.”

She steps.. _She floats forwards_. He doesn’t move back, because this is his fantasy, and in his fantasy, he isn’t a goddamned coward.

She reaches up a hand and cups his cheek. 

God. 

God GOD _god_ god it feels good skin against skin he wants to cry he wants to grab her and hold her and kiss her but this… THIS is almost enough.

He always had a good imagination.

“You can totally do more,” she says.

He swallows. Holds her hand next to his cheek. Turns his face to her palm to kiss it. 

He hears her gasp a little, at that and then this... well. This is where the fantasy becomes absolutely unbelievable.

 _This_ is where he dips his head, and tilts her chin up towards him, and covers her mouth with his. _This_ is where her arms come up around his waist and travel up towards his neck, her mouth opening as he presses his more firmly into hers, where he feels her body up against his and she _wants_ this and he isn’t a creeper or an asshole or a criminal or a fucking radio receiver or a mindless Cutter zombie he’s just…

He’s just…

 _Cutter._ “Doug. Renee.” Eiffel reaches desperately for the vestiges of the fantasy, tries to capture her scent, the way her voice sounds in his ear…

But no.

 _Doug. Renee._ “Would you show Isobel to her new quarters?” No. No. No. No. No.

He’s just….

“Yes. Sir.”


End file.
